


The Blood in My Veins, The Smoke on Your Lips

by shatteredcrystalwings



Category: Devilman
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M, track star/school delinquent au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 05:34:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12952413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shatteredcrystalwings/pseuds/shatteredcrystalwings
Summary: While practicing for an upcoming track meet, Akira finds his attention driven elsewhere.





	The Blood in My Veins, The Smoke on Your Lips

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by some [super cute art by Tumblr user snowshu](http://snowshu.tumblr.com/post/168312797447/steps-think-about-akira-doing-track-in-crybaby), go check it out! I used to run track a bit myself, so this was really fun for me to write. :D

Blistering sunlight shone down on the track, reflecting off the red pavement in waves and making beads of sweat unrelated to the physical activity activity appear on the back of Akira’s neck. Shaking his hands in an attempt to both rid them of some of the wetness and to rid himself of some of his nerves, he bent down, pressing his fingertips to the burning track and setting his running shoes in the starting blocks. The gun cracked and he was the bullet shot from the barrel, feet flying beneath him and his body leaned so far forward that it felt like he would tumble head over heels if he slowed his pace. 

Around one turn, speed up on the straight, final turn, and push it as hard as possible on the home stretch. Shave off even a single millisecond. A mad two hundred meter dash that he had run more times than he cared to count. 

Passing the finish mark, he allowed himself to slow to a jog then a walk and looked back to see his teammates following a few paces behind him and Miki on the sidelines, a water bottle in one hand and a stopwatch in the other. “How did I do?” he panted, rushing over to where she stood and grabbing up the towel he had left on the bench. 

“0.7 seconds slower than last time,” she said, not looking up at him as she handed him the water bottle. “I think you should stop for the day. You’re starting to wear out.” 

“No, I can go again. I’m fine.”

Now she looked at him, and not kindly. “Akira, you’re going to get hurt if you push yourself too hard. The meet is in barely a week, you can’t risk it right now.”

“One,” he insisted, holding up a finger. “One more lap, then I’ll stop for the day.”

“Akira-”

“Just one.”

“...Fine. But after that you stop, do you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a salute, throwing the towel and bottle down again and hopping back a step before turning and jogging back to the starting blocks. Once there, he watched as Miki spoke to the coach who turned to look at Akira crossly before handing her the starting pistol. 

“Alright, on your mark!” she called, raising the gun high and he followed the command, tension building. His fingers felt like they were sizzling, Miki spitefully letting the pause last for longer than usual, before the shot finally sounded. 

He flew around the first turn, shifting his weight to keep his balance as adrenaline rushed even harder than his feet, but just as he was straightening out, a flash of yellow off to the side caught his eye. Leaning too far, his foot caught on the back of his ankle and he felt himself go down, narrowly throwing his hands out in time to catch his fall.

“Akira!” 

He heard Miki’s approaching footsteps as he recollected himself, dazedly raising a hand to look at the bloodied heel where grit from the track clung to the scrape. Sitting up on his knees that had miraculously avoided injury, he scratched a nail against the abrasion, trying to loosen a few tiny stones that had made their way under his skin. 

“Oh, I told you to be careful!” Miki chastised, sidling up to him with a small first aid kit already in hand. “Let me see.”

“It’s just the left hand, mainly. My legs are fine,” he said. He watched as she turned his rough hand in her own smooth ones, inspecting it, before pulling out a pair of tweezers and rubbing alcohol. 

“They better be. Do you realize how disappointed everyone will be if you’re really hurt?”

“I’m not! Really, it’s not that bad. I’ve had worse.”

Miki hmphed, spraying on a liberal amount of the alcohol and paying him no mind as he hissed at the sensation. “What even happened? You weren’t watching the track; it’s unlike you.”

“I… got distracted, I guess,” he said, moving his gaze to look at the spot that had caught his eye. There, the metal bleachers shone almost blindingly in the sunlight, but still it was something else that had demanded his attention so fervently. 

“Well, don’t let it happen again.” She let go of his now bandaged hand, gesturing for him to let her see to the other. 

“Um.” He looked at his right hand, observing that it wasn’t as bad an injury, only one small spot that looked like it had collided with a pebble when he feel bleeding to any significant degree. “Y’know what, it’s good actually. Thanks.” He stood before she could protest, hurriedly turning in the direction of the bleachers. “I’ll catch you at home later, I just wanna check something!” he called over his shoulder, giving her a wave.

“Hey, wai- Akira!” 

He paid her no mind, grabbing the bar on the end of the stands when he reached them and using it to swing himself around. There, he came face to face with his distraction. “Hey,” he said breathily.

Ryo eyed him with visible amusement, smirking around a cigarette as he nodded towards the bar. “You’re getting blood on that.”

Akira retracted his hand as if burned, seeing that there was indeed a red smear now decorated the steel. “Oh- Um.” He fumbled for what to do, electing to wipe his hand off on his shorts. Blood washed out, right?

“That was a pretty nasty spill you took there,” Ryo said, voice still holding a teasing lilt.

“Nah, it uh- it wasn’t that bad. It probably looked a lot worse than it was. So,” he looked up at Ryo, gaze flitting between his eyes and the cigarette. He didn’t know he had started smoking. “What are you doing here? You weren’t in class this afternoon.”

Ryo rolled his eye exaggeratedly, shrugging, and the movement called Akira’s attention to the fact that he had his shirt unbuttoned more than school dress code strictly allowed. “I guess I didn’t really feel like it. One of the third years swiped the key to the roof a few days ago and forgot to lock it after lunch. You should come up there with me sometime.” Ryo nudged him with an elbow. “It beats sitting in a hot classroom for hours.”

Akira ran a hand through his hair, realizing with mild disgust as he did so that it was wet with sweat. “You know I really shouldn’t, Ryo. I mean, if I get caught skipping, then…” He looked back in the direction of the track, not needing to finish the sentence for Ryo to know what he meant. Disobeyment of rules was met with being pulled from extracurriculars, and, in his case, that meant being barred from the upcoming track meet. 

Dropping the cigarette, Ryo watched it fall to the ground before smothering it under his shoe. “The offer stands, if you change your mind.” He looked back up at him, that smirk still present, but now Akira thought he could see something else in his expression. Some sort of longing hope that didn’t quite mesh with the bad boy persona he had been putting on for the past year. 

“Y’know…” Akira said, experimentally raising a hand to twist a piece of Ryo’s hair between his fingers as he spoke. “I just might.”

The corner of Ryo’s lips twitched, fighting off a genuine smile. Akira watched him, considering for a moment before he leaned in and hesitantly kissed him.

When he pulled away, it seemed that Ryo’s fa ç ade had fully broken, giving way to a surprised expression for a few heartbeats before returning to a smirk that now held real confidence behind it.

And that was all the confirmation Akira needed before he was leaning forward again, hand pressing to Ryo’s cheek as their lips met. Now he could properly feel as the smirk broke away, Ryo sighing contentedly as he tilted his head up to deepen the kiss, sweat mixing with tobacco. Ryo twisted his fingers into Akira’s jersey, pulling him closer only to nearly fall backwards at the sudden shift in weight, only stopped by his back hitting the bleachers. 

Akira chuckled, breaking the kiss slightly and opening his eyes a slit to look at Ryo. “Someone’s eager,” he teased.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Ryo breathed before diving back in. 

They stayed like that for several minutes, reveling in each other’s presence, before they were suddenly surprised apart by Miki’s voice rounding the corner. “Akira, there you are, you forgot to- Oh.” She broke off, face lighting up bright red as she took in the position they were in. “Um. Hello Ryo.”

“Hello,” Ryo replied, glancing nervously between her and Akira and Akira quickly drew his hand back, realizing it had still been on Ryo’s cheek. 

“Um. Akira, Coach said you mentioned wanting to talk to him after practice, so…” She glanced between them again, a hint of a smirk of her own tugging at her expression. “You have something on your cheek, by the way,” she said to Ryo, tapping her own blushing face, then turned away and dashed off with a wave over her shoulder. “Be safe, boys!”

Eyebrows knitting together, Ryo raised a hand to touch his cheek, but Akira was already laughing before he pulled it away to see that blood had gotten on him. “Maybe I should have let her bandage my other hand after all,” he joked.

Ryo made a face and ducked under Akira’s arm. “I’m washing this off before someone else sees it,” he said just loud enough to be heard, walking away in the direction of the school. Pausing, he turned to look back at Akira. “You could do with a wash yourself. You stink.”

After a moment, Akira found himself laughing. Running to catch up, he threw an arm around Ryo’s shoulders and gave him another kiss on the cheek as they walked together. “Thanks for waiting.”


End file.
